Christmas and Fires Are Unmixy Things
by clarksmuse
Summary: The Winchesters' version of Christmas could be hazardous to Chloe's health, or at least her house. Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Not mine. Not for profit.


**Christmas and Fires Are Unmixy Things**

"You _set _me on fire!"

The loud thunderous voice, followed by the resounding swoop of punches being thrown, launched Chloe Sullivan out of her seat at her office desk, and she ran down the hallway at breakneck speed. She knew she couldn't keep them in one room together for more than a few moments in such close quarters as this. Going on hunting trips had taught her that right away. And despite their reassurances that everything would be fine, doubt nibbled at her and told her that if she chose to ignore the increasingly violent shouts of anger from the living room, her small suburban house would be flattened in a matter of hours.

As a new homeowner, she had no desire to try explaining "Act of Brotherly Love" to the insurance adjuster.

Rounding the corner, Chloe shot into the living room – a small but cozy front-side room off the kitchen – and skidded to a halt, nearly tripping over her feet as her slippers attempted to grip onto the hardwood flooring. The room was a mess, for lack of a better term. The once lush Christmas tree, the one all three of them had picked out together at the closest tree stand, now looked like a poor man's Charlie Brown tree: its needles were scattered across the carpet, on the window drapes, and stuck into the couch. The trunk might have made pretty firewood had it not looked like a pine-flavored candy cane, with tracks a bear might have made with its claws. The torn branches on the floor explained that mess.

The box of Christmas stuff – ornaments from her dad's house, the string of lights and assorted decorations she had just bought from the store – were strewn across the room, scattered here and there like a gnome had tried making off with pirate booty. And to top it all off, the fire that was supposed to be in the fireplace was, in fact, spreading from one brother to the other. They both smacked at each others' arms in a lame attempt to put out the burst of flame that could signal the start of Armageddon. Again.

"It's your own fault, Sam! That's what happens when you tip the damn tree over!"

"I didn't! You did with your whole tree-stand wannabe knowledge!" _Thwack, smack._

_BOOM. _"Hey, you never got the joys of trying to put up a stupid tree in the middle of the stupid room so someone could put lights on it! Ouch!"

_THACK! _"That's because by the time I got old enough to ask about Christmas, Dad didn't want to celebrate it!"

"Ow! Stop that, idiot!"

"Moron!" 

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

If words had been water, the fire would have been doused long ago, along with making all the still untouched furniture in the room soaked through. However, as the Winchesters seemed to have forgotten the primary rule of putting out fires – stop, drop, and roll – Chloe did the only other thing possible: she grabbed the fire extinguisher from behind the front hall desk, unpinned it, aimed, and fired.

Great white gobs of flame retardant shot from the extinguisher and covered Dean and Sam, effectively putting out the actual fire on their jackets. The foam also managed to put out the fire in the fireplace, too, though the figurative fire still shone brightly on their shocked, surprised, and still angry faces. With a small smirk, Chloe took her finger off the trigger and put it on the floor beside her. She regarded them with a mixture of amusement and irritation.

"Hey!"

"We almost had it out!"

Their voices chimed in together, protest overriding their previous argument. Chloe crossed her arms and gazed at them. "This place looks like a demilitarized zone," she commented idly.

"It's all Sam's fault," Dean shot back immediately and took a step away from his brother. He swiped a hand across his face and got the foamy goo off him. "He was the one who suggested a fire in the first place."

"That's because it's _cold_, Dean," Sam growled as he worked on ridding himself of the flame retardant. "And when you're cold, you build a fire."

"Fine, but I hadn't put the damn tree up yet, and it was too close to the fire."

"The fire was fine until something made it literally flame up at us!"

Chloe cocked an eyebrow at Dean and bit back a smile. "What did you put in my fireplace?" she asked.

For a moment, Dean Winchester looked like a petulant child: his eyes narrowed and became flat with anger. His face became a mask of neutrality and he remained silent for a long moment. The air grew thick with guilt, however, and finally, a change seemed to have swept over him, because he whispered, "I thought it'd be safe there."

"Uh, what would?"

"My… box of gunpowder."

Chloe nearly spluttered in disbelief. "Wait, you're telling me you put… gunpowder in my fireplace?"

"It wasn't a lot of it. Just enough to finish making those rounds of silver bullets I started yesterday." Dean shifted uncomfortably onto his other foot and regarded Chloe, looking only slightly sheepish.

Trust Dean to make a short vacation – hunting a werewolf while visiting her – into a business stop on the one-way demon hunting express. He and Sam were in town, the first time she had seen either of them in at least three months, here to celebrate Christmas with her as best as they could, and Dean had used the opportunity to hone his bullet-making skills. And while she could wonder at the ancient art he had mastered, it still didn't account for the fact that these two had nearly made her beloved house a piece of history.

"So you gonna tell me why my living room looks like Stephen King's version of 'Winter Wonderland'?"

Both brothers looked at each other for a long moment. She knew that look: _quick! Make up a lie or something!_ "It's not what you think," Sam spoke first.

She looked at him. "I think you two are trying to burn my not-so-new house down."

"Definitely not what you think," Dean chimed in with a smirk. He shrugged off his heavy coat, looked at the large burn marks along the sleeves and glared at Sam. "Dude, you are _so_ lucky this wasn't my leather jacket."

"Shut up, Dean."

"Hey, you were the one who wanted to start the fire."

"Like I knew you had gunpowder hidden in it! Who does that anymore?!"

"Guys," Chloe interrupted them and took a step into the destroyed room. "Don't make me bring in the big guns like I did the last time this happened."

Sam had the decency to flush a bright beet red color, though Dean merely looked impressed. At least she wouldn't have to conjure the demonic dancer and torture them with making them sing and dance in ways only her camera phone recalled. Especially since worming her way out of her side of the bargain had been hard, not to mention nearly deadly.

"Okay, fine. We were fighting."

"Figured that. What for?"

Sam shrugged. "Dean was bragging that his gift to you was better than mine." He had taken off his coat, too, and was carefully examining the charred sleeves carefully. Anything to avoid looking at Chloe.

Dean, meanwhile, had decided to make himself useful and begun picking up the stray decorations. "It's true," he muttered under his breath. "I do have the better present."

Sam snorted softly and picked up the torn branches from around what was left of the tree. "Whatever, dude. All I wanted was to light the fire. Didn't think you'd freak out and whip the damn tree at my head."

"I do didn't do that!" Dean shouted and dumped the decorations into a large plastic container. "It was just one of the loose tree branches. I was trying to keep you from lighting the fire."

"All you had to do was say something, dude."

"I didn't have time because I knew you wouldn't gonna listen to me!"

"Dean! Sam! Winchesters! STOP!" Chloe yelled at the top of her voice and resisted the urge to thwack both of them on the backs of their handsome heads. She wasn't sure whether to be appalled or enthralled. While she liked to think their gift to her had been this visit, she was secretly impressed that both went out of their way to please her with an extra Christmas surprise. On the other hand, she wondered what would happen if they ever encountered a monster in a house. With their strength and endurance, they could do some serious damage. "So you were fighting over… gifts? All this because of a gift?"

Her secret amusement must have shone through her voice, because Dean took a step towards her and grinned. "You're enjoying this way too much, Chloe."

"Well, wouldn't you if two guys argued over you? That never happened to me before."

Dean made a face, but Sam laughed. "If you only knew what I got you, Chloe. Dean's just jealous he didn't think of it sooner."

She crossed her arms and cocked her head in curiosity, the reporter in her getting the better of her. "And what is… it?"

"Sorry, Chlo, but you're going to have to wait until tomorrow night to find out."

Chloe shook her head and laughed to herself. _'Twas the night before Christmas Eve, and all through my house, these guys are a mess but I couldn't care less._ And that, she realized, was the best Christmas gift of all: she was friends with two men who seemed to actually understand her, each in his individual way. Sure, Dean always tried to get into her pants, and Sam used his mad research skills to impress her, but in the end, they both got the most basic part of her. The one that needed to be accepted as she was, no questions asked. And she never wanted it to be any other way. "That's okay," she replied after a moment. "Already got my gift."

Dean cocked an eyebrow, feigning disgust. "Am I gonna have to leave the room so you two can have a chick flick moment?" he asked.

"You're the one who mopes like a girl," Sam complained.

Chloe rolled her eyes and looked at Sam. "So not the point."

"Yeah!" Dean exclaimed, then looked at Chloe. "What's the point?"

"You two are here," she said and grinned. "I got what I wanted for Christmas: friendship and company. A house with guests and a… well, an almost tree." She gestured to the poor mangled tree lying inert on her floor and snorted with laughter. "I really don't think we can save it."

Sam smiled softly at her and walked over to her. "It's okay. We'll fine some use for it," he said and enveloped her in a warm bear hug. Chloe wound her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly, thankful for the friendly contact.

When he pulled back and stepped away, Chloe looked at Dean and noticed the gleam of anticipation in his eyes. "What?" she asked. "You think you're gonna get anything out of me?"

He nodded and held out the fake mistletoe she had bought at the store, thinking that maybe she'd get lucky for a change this year. He crossed the room, grabbed her to him, and kissed her thoroughly on the lips. Her surprise quickly melted into approval as she kissed him back and let their mouths speak a new kind of language.

And when he let her go, Dean turned to Sam and waggled his eyebrows. "See, Sammy? Told you she'd like my gift better. Maybe next time, think about making out with the girl instead of getting her a monogrammed blowtorch for Christmas."


End file.
